


So take my hand and know that I will never leave your side

by EponineTheStrange (gallifreyandglowclouds)



Category: Doctor Who RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-06
Updated: 2013-06-06
Packaged: 2017-12-14 04:06:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/832537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gallifreyandglowclouds/pseuds/EponineTheStrange
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Matt/Karen, Historical AU, set in the 1930's/1940's. (This one is set during World War II.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Alexandria, July 1942_

The first casualties from El-Alamein start rolling about a day after the fighting actually starts - young men with various wounds, and sand. Lots and lots of sand. Karen swears that she spends about as much time sweeping as she does actually treating patients. It seemed that the Sisters and Matrons enjoy sticking the staff nurses with the worst of the jobs, and Karen found that it was especially bad owing to the strange prejudice her Scottishness seemed to inspire. 

“You should put on a different accent,” her bunkmate Jennie had said one night before their few hours of sleep. “That might help.” 

“I don’t think it would do me much good,” Karen had replied. “I mean, it’s not hard to guess with the hair and everything.” Flaming redheads aren’t much of a rarity up in Inverness, but ever since she went down south for nursing school she’s yet to meet one. The local people in Alexandria also give her funny looks when she goes out and about (which, granted, she doesn’t do all that much). Too many injured young men to take care of. 

* * *

He comes in on the last day of the battle with a broken leg. He’s the talk of the ward because he broke it not in some epic firefight with the Jerries, but because he was climbing out of a tank and fell off of it. 

He’s under Karen’s care, and after the doctors have set his leg, she comes by to give him some water and make sure that everything is well with the cast and such. 

“Good evening Sergeant Smith,” she says, placing a glass of water and some pain pills by his bed, “everything all right with the leg?” 

His face lights up when he hears her talk. “A Scot! A Scot in Alexandria! I’ll be damned.” 

“I take it that everything’s good, then?” 

“Oh yes,” he says, and she could almost laugh because he’s got the perfect Oxford accent, which is as funny to her as her Highland accent must be to most everyone else, “Can’t wait to get up and about again.” 

“I’m afraid it’ll be a couple of months before that can happen, Sergeant,” Karen says. 

“Oh dear,” he says. “Well, you’ll take good care of me, won’t you, Nurse…” 

“Gillan,” she says. “Now try to get some rest, and I’ll come by again in the morning.” 

“G’night, Nurse Gillan!” He says in what is possibly the worst Scottish accent she’s ever heard. 

It makes her smile a little. 

* * *

There is not a lot of time for smiles in a hospital word, and they do end up losing enough patients that there are days where Karen has to go back to her dorm and cry. These are young, young men, and even though she’s only twenty-four, she feels like she’s seen enough for a whole lifetime. 

It’s doubly difficult for her because whenever she sees those young boys dying of gunshot wounds alone in hospital beds, she thinks about her brother Christopher who died in Hong Kong. The notification had come on Christmas Eve, and that was a hard time to go home, because her whole family was blanketed with sadness at what would usually be a very joyful time.

Six weeks later, she got her orders that she would be seconded from London General Hospital to go to North Africa. She had called her mother, who cried for ages on the telephone. 

“Karen,” she says, “we’ve already got John in the RAF, and Christopher… Please, you have to say no. I can’t lose another one of you.”  

But Karen had always felt a sense of obligation to her country. Her father fought in the army in the Great War, and she and both of her siblings had been raised to believe that if there was ever a call to war, they would follow it and serve with all of their hearts. 

And so, Karen went, and seven months later, she’s still in the same sandy place, and at least she’s safer than John. 

Some days are still worse than others. 

* * *

The summer wears on.

The hospital in Alexandria has a small courtyard, and Sergeant Smith is remarkably persistent, and eventually gets permission to be pushed around there in a wheelchair while his leg is still in a cast. The casualties have slowed down enough that Karen is spared to help Matt get some fresh air for an hour or so every afternoon. She is his favourite, apparently.

“So, Nurse Gillan,” he says, as she makes the umpteenth lap around the courtyard, “shall we sit? I fear the sun is making this walking rather unbearable.” 

“You aren’t the one doing the walking, Sergeant Smith,” Karen grumbles, and stops them under the shade of a tree. There’s nowhere for her to sit, so she leans up against the tree. 

“So,” he asks, “what’s a wee Scottish lass doing all the way down here?” 

(If there is anything Karen isn’t, it’s wee. She’s tall and gangly and a little bit awkward, and while she hasn’t seen Matt standing up, she figures she’s almost as tall as he is.) 

She shrugs. “I was in the nursing corps working down in London. I got my orders. I went.” 

“Must have been hard.” 

Karen shrugs and looks out in to the distance. “I’d already been away from home enough, so what’s another ocean?” 

“I suppose,” Matt says, and shakes his head. “It’s amazing how the war interrupts things. I had just finished up doing law in Oxford, and I was planning a wedding and then, well, sometimes the world has its own plans, doesn’t it?” 

“Well, at least you’ll have a lovely fiancee who’ll be there for you when all this is done,” Karen says. 

He stops talking after that, and she wonders what mistake she’s made. 

They sit in silence for a little while, and then Karen says, a little awkwardly, “We need to go back inside now. I don’t want you having heatstroke and a broken leg.” 

She wheels him back in in silence. 

* * *

They don’t go wheeling around again until Saturday, because Matt’s become rather tired and listless since their conversation, and he refuses to go out with her anymore. He plays cards with some of the other patients, but otherwise spends a lot of time sleeping. 

Karen gets a little too worried, and she checks the temperature and his cast several times more than she actually should because she’s worried that he has an infection, and she doesn’t want him to die. 

On Saturday, though, he’s sitting up in his bed, crutches in hand, and smiles eagerly. 

“Shall we?” He asks. 

Karen nods.  

They go to their favourite spot under the tree, but slowly, because he’s up on crutches but he’s still not walking particularly well. 

There’s a little bench there now, which Karen suspects that Matron put there specifically for their little walks. He sits down, and though there’s space for two, she doesn’t join him. 

“Will you sit, Nurse?” He says, gesturing to the seat beside him. 

Well, if he’s invited her, she might as well. It’s not quite as hot outside now that it’s the beginning of September, so the temperature is a little more pleasant. 

“I feel so strange calling you Nurse all the time,” he says, looking at her with some concern in his eyes. “Will you tell me your name?” 

She hesitates now, because they aren’t supposed to fraternise with the soldiers, because it is feared that it will lead to romance, and romance, in the minds of the nursing sisters and matrons, will inevitably mean trouble. 

Karen finds that in this case, she doesn’t care quite as much. “Karen,” she says. “My name is Karen.” 

“Matthew,” he says, and holds out his hand for her to shake it. “I feel a bit better now that we’ve been properly introduced.” 

“Wonderful,” Karen says, staring straight ahead. 

“I must apologise for my behaviour this past week,” he says, quieter and without his usual gregariousness, “I fear that when you brought up my fiancee, it brought back some unpleasant memories for me.” 

“I’m so sorry,” Karen says, “I didn’t mean - “

“She sent me what the Americans call a ‘Dear John’ letter shortly after we left for here,” Matt says sadly. “She didn’t want to love someone she feared would imminently expire, so she broke our engagement in favour of one of my former colleagues from Balliol.” 

Karen hesitates a little, and says, “I do, to a point, understand where she’s coming from.” 

Matt turns to her with a look of surprise. 

“My brother,” Karen says, haltingly, “died in Hong Kong, and left behind his wife and young child. I remember the funeral, and I can still remember the pain in her eyes when the telegram came.” 

“A brother dead and you all the way over here?” Matthew says, shocked. 

“It is my duty,” Karen says. “I must serve. I have another brother in the RAF. He’s crazy, but he loves to fly, so that’s what he does.” 

Matthew is smiling at her incredulously. “You brave, brave people.” 

That brings a bit of a blush to her cheeks. “Thank you, Matthew.” 

* * *

As luck would have it, Matthew is cleared for combat duty right before they go up against the Germans at El-Alamein again, and a great pit opens up in Karen’s stomach when she hears about how excited he is to be back in combat. 

“We get bored,” he says, when he meets her again in the courtyard by the hospital. “I’m here to fight the Germans, not sit around and talk to pretty nurses. Although you are a pretty wonderful nurse to talk to.” 

“When are you leaving?” She asks, knotting her hands together in worry. 

“Couple days from now, I think,” he says. “You musn’t worry, Karen. I’ll be fine.” 

“This says the man who wasn’t wounded by a German soldier, but from falling off of the top of a tank,” Karen says. “It would appear that so long as you keep your clumsiness in check, you’ll make it through just fine.” She laughs, but it’s forced. 

“I must go back to the barracks,” Matt says, “But I’ll be seeing you soon, Karen!” 

He gets up, and she waves to him as he goes. The heavy weight that seems to have settled upon her shoulders isn’t lightened by his optimism, unfortunately. 

* * *

Karen keeps a closer than normal watch on the casualties that pour in to the hospital, but as the days of near-constant work wear on, she is heartened to see that Matthew’s managed to keep himself alive, which makes it easier for her. She focuses on providing the best care for the patients that she has, and keeping all the damn sand out of the wards. 

Finally - on Remembrance Day, no less, when all the nurses have poppies pinned to their uniforms - victory is declared, and the Jerries are forced to retreat out of Egypt and in to Libya. The mood is positively manic back in Alexandria. 

The XXX Corps are made to keep pushing through the desert to follow Rommel, so Matthew isn’t coming back to Alexandria for the time being. Still, there’s a dance and she does waltz with a couple of dashing corporals, but none of them are her soldier, so it’s not entirely satisfying. 

She receives a promotion to Sister around Christmastime, which means that she’s the equivalent of a lieutenant. Her parents send her a congratulatory letter, along with a woolly jumper that doesn’t arrive until the second week of January. 

“It’s a very Scottish present,” Matron had said with some disdain upon seeing it. “Can’t imagine you’ll have much use for it here.” 

There isn’t much fighting going on close to them, now that the Jerries have been pushed back. They spend a lot of time preparing patients to get transported back to England once they’re well enough, and trying to stave off gangrene as long as possible, so that with all luck, everyone’s limbs will remain intact. 

* * *

At the end of February, Karen’s in the courtyard on a brief break when someone comes up behind her and taps her on the shoulder. She almost jumps, and then turns around to see that it’s Matthew. 

“You’re alive!” She exclaims. She would hug him if she was allowed to. 

“Yes,” he says. “Fortunately, I didn’t require any medical assistance this time. I’m pretty lucky, as I understand it.” 

She nods. “We have some catching up to do, I believe.” 

Matthews seems to be coming over more often than he did after he was first discharged, and one of the perks about Karen’s new seniority as a sister is, interestingly, a bit more free time during the day. They talk and they talk and they talk, and she can’t tell, because in all of her short life, this has never happened, but she thinks that she might be falling a bit in love with him. 

This was not part of the planned adventure or duty, but, she thinks as she runs over every little word of their conversation from that afternoon in her mind later that evening, it’s not a bad perk. 

* * *

The happy times don’t last, unfortunately. 

Matthew gets word that he’s meant to march back in to the desert to see if they can chase Rommel away permanently, which darkens Karen’s previously jubilant mood, and then, some bad news from home comes. 

Matron calls Karen in to her office during a shift, which is unusual. 

“Nurse Gillan,” she says, “do sit down.” 

She does. “Matron, what is going on?” 

Matron takes a deep breath. “You are being sent back to Edinburgh.” 

She’s shocked. “How come? Have I not been a good nurse here?” 

“Your brother John was shot down over Essen,” Matron says, not meeting her eyes, “He is missing, presumed dead.” 

She gasps, and then sobs, because John was always a little closer in age to her, and they had always been more friendly than she was with Christopher. 

“I am so sorry,” Matron says. “The reason you are being sent home is because it has been decided that you ought to be close to your family, and away from high-risk areas so that your mother and father do not have to sacrifice another child to this war.” 

Karen nods, and she tries to keep her composure even with the tears streaming down her face. “When am I meant to go?” 

“A week today,” Matron says. “In the meantime, I suggest you go put your things together and say your goodbyes. Your replacement just arrived today, so we do not need you on rotation any longer. You may go.” 

She gets up from her chair, and walks slowly back to the dormitories with shaking legs, and then collapses on her bed and cries for hours. She doesn’t remember being this broken up when Christopher died, but that feels like a lifetime ago now. 

One of the other sisters brings her tea and a little note. It reads: 

_Karen -_

_For obvious reasons, I’m not allowed in to the nurses’ dormitory, but if you need to talk, I’m in our favourite spot._

_Matthew_

She leaves the tea and walks to the courtyard, because she feels that he would probably be able to soothe her shattered soul better than a cup of Earl Grey could. 

He’s sitting under the tree that she thinks of as theirs, and he pulls her in for a hug as soon as she sits down beside him. His embrace is warm and tender, and he whispers words of consolation in her ear as she cries in his arms. 

“Your friend Jennie seems to have a small network set up between the nurses and the soldiers,” Matt says after they pull apart, “so I heard from her. I cannot begin to tell you how sorry I am for your loss.” 

“Thank you,” she says quietly. 

“When are you going back?” 

“In a week’s time,”  Karen says. “With any luck, I won’t miss the funeral, but it just takes so long to get back to England and then I still have to travel all the way up to Inverness.” She sighs. “I won’t be right at home, but at least I’ll be closer, I suppose.” 

He doesn’t reply to that, and appears to be deep in thought. One of his hands is still on her shoulder. 

“You’ll write, then?” He asks, quietly. 

She nods. “I wouldn’t want to lose touch with my favourite patient.”  

“And I wouldn’t want to lose touch with my favourite nurse, either.” 

* * *

Matthew comes by every day, and Karen doesn’t want to think about how hard that must be for him, because the XXX Corps are busy preparing for their assault in the Mareth Line. Karen spends some time orienting her replacement, and a lot of time putting her trunk back together and preparing herself for the journey home. 

On the day she’s meant to catch her ship home, Matthew shows up outside of the nurses’ dormitory in his dress uniform, which potentially could get him in trouble. It causes quite the stir among the nurses. 

“Your paramour is here,” Jennie says to Karen as she drags her trunk away from her bed. 

“He’s not my paramour.”

“If I were meeting a man in a courtyard every day for a week, I think I would safely be able to call him my paramour,” Jennie replies.  

Karen rolls her eyes. 

A truck is waiting to take her to the pier, and the driver watches impatiently as she and Matt say their goodbyes.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you here all dressed up,” Karen says, and suddenly a lump forms in her throat and she feels like crying again. 

“I’m seeing off a higher ranking officer,” Matthew says. “It’s the least I could do.” 

“Stay safe,” Karen says. “Don’t fall off of any more tanks.” 

He rolls his eyes. “I’ll do my best, dear. Safe journey.” 

He pulls her in for another hug, and she can swear that she feels him kiss the top of her head, which makes her blush a little. 

“I hope I’ll get many a letter from you,” he says, “and I hope to see you again someday.” There’s a lot of sadness in his eyes, which breaks Karen’s heart a little. 

He helps lift her trunk in to the waiting truck, and salutes her as they drive away. 

* * *

_March 1943_

_Somewhere between Africa and Britain_

_Dear Matthew,_

_I cannot, for the life of me, remember how I survived my trip over to Alexandria, though perhaps the seas were far less rough when I first came over. I feel as though we’re being tossed and turned for days and weeks on end with no sign of ever arriving in Britain._

_I don’t know yet how I’m going to feel about being at home again - on the one hand, it could be rather nice seeing all of my family again, and I’ll be much closer than I was when I was doing my training. I have heard that sometimes people have a lot of trouble adapting to life on the home front, though, so we’ll have to see how that goes._

_I apologise for the brevity of this letter, as I can only write between bouts of seasickness. Stay alive. I wish all the best to you and all of your comrades._

_Karen_

* * *

_April 1943_

_[location censored]_

_Darling Karen,_

_I am pleased to be able to tell you that I have made it back from the desert in one piece. I do apologise for the lack of specifics, but I wouldn’t want to offend the mail censors._

_I can tell you, however, that we are being shipped off to Italy in a couple of months, which I suppose is good because that means we’re taking the fight back to the continent, and breaking through Fortress Europe. I so hope it goes far better than the Dieppe Raid._

_I dream a lot, for whatever reason, even though the North African desert is perhaps not the place for dreaming. You tend to play a rather central role, because I tend to think about coming back to you, and meeting you in Waverley Station and holding you in my arms again. I’m a bit of a romantic, I’ll give you that, but even though it’s been barely a month since you’ve been gone, I miss you already._

_Lots of love (and all the best to your family),_

_Matthew_

* * *

_June 1943_

_Edinburgh_

_Darling Matthew,_

_Some days, I think your letters are the only things that keep me going on._

_I had always been much closer to John than to Christopher, and his death has been rather difficult and distracting for me to deal with. It’s very difficult to go home sometimes, because mother and father are so oppressively sad, and I cannot deal with their feelings as well as my own. I find a weekend at home once or twice a month suffices, even though they do give me more time off here at the hospital. It’s not quite as bustling as Alexandria, and the weather certainly isn’t as pleasant. It’s raining right now as I write this letter._

_You are, if anything, a hopeless romantic, though you are lucky to have found a kindred soul here. I have never been religious, though I find that I pray for your safe return quite frequently, and the memories of our brief time together in Egypt are some of the happiest that I have ever known. I cannot wait for the day when this war is over and we can be reunited. I am not experienced in the ways of romance, but I do know that my heart is most certainly and ardently yours._

_Keep the letters coming, my darling._

_Love always,_

_Karen_

_(P.S. If this letter does not arrive to wherever you’ve gone to in time, I do wish you a very happy twenty-seventh birthday. Hopefully, we’ll be together to celebrate your twenty-eighth.)_

 

* * *

_August 1943_

_Somewhere between Italy and England, I would presume_

_Darling Karen,_

_Thank you for the birthday wishes, and I do hope that this whole frightful war will be over so that I might spend my next birthday (and all the ones after that) with you._

_As you might have guessed from the start of the letter, we are making our way back to England. Now that Sicily has been captured, they are taking us out of the line and bringing us back to England to train for a big operation with the Americans and the Canadians. I don’t know much other than that, and hopefully the mail censors won’t take too much offence with what I’ve written here. Though I’ll probably get some leave around Christmas, it won’t be long, and I’m not sure if I’ll be able to come up and see you in that time._

_I miss you more with each passing day. Your new short haircut is lovely, darling. I carry your picture with me at all times._

_Yours forever,_

_Matthew_

* * *

The pace of the letter-writing picks up dramatically when Matthew returns from Italy, as now she can hear from him once or twice a week instead of once or twice a month. It makes her so giddy that some of the veterans on the rehabilitation ward where she works become kind of annoyed. 

He does go home to Northampton for Christmas, and she returns to Inverness, and the cloud of sadness that had settled over her family seems to have dissipated somewhat. They have a lovely holiday, full of warmth and cheer, and she introduces everyone to Matthew through the letters that they exchange and the beautiful necklace that arrives a couple days after New Years for her. (He also has the good sense to effusively praise the batch of her mother’s shortbread that she sends to him, and this wins him her mother’s approval quite quickly.) 

On the anniversary of their last meeting, in March of 1944, she receives a promotion to Senior Sister, which makes her the equivalent of a Captain in the Army. He too is promoted to a Sergeant-Major, but she still holds the fact that she technically outranks him over his head. 

He writes in one of his letters:  _I’ll have to salute you the next time that I see you, Captain Gillan. God willing, that won’t be in too long of a time._

* * *

_June 5th, 1944_

_[location censored]_

_Dearest Karen,_

_I apologise for how rushed and messy this letter is. We are setting out tomorrow, and I needed to send you one last letter in case I do not return._

_I love you, and knowing that you love me as well gives me courage when I am feeling more frightened than I have any right to be. Anticipating our life together gives me the greatest hope, and I eagerly await the day where I’ll be able to hold you once more._

_This is not me at my most eloquent, but I hope the sentiment is clear._

_With all of my heart,_

_Matthew_

* * *

_June 20th, 1944_

_Northampton_

_Dear Nurse Gillan,_

_My name is Laura Smith, and I am Matthew’s sister. He has spoken to us often of you, and only in the highest terms. I cannot wait to meet you when this war is over._

_I realise that you are probably not receiving updates on Matthew’s condition, as you two are not married (though it is evident from the way he speaks of you that you two are very much in love). I bear the unfortunate news that Matthew has been seriously injured, and that he is currently recovering from a serious infection somewhere in France. We do not know more than that, though I do hope they plan to evacuate him to England at the earliest convenience. However, at the moment, his condition is delicate enough that he is not to be moved._

_I will send you further details as we receive them._

_Sincerely,_

_Miss. L. Smith_

* * *

Karen goes back home shortly after she receives the letter from Laura, and takes to her bed for most of the time that she is there. Mary, John’s widow, spends a lot of time sitting with her. 

“I think the not knowing is probably the worst part,” she says quietly, her knitting needles clicking away. “It was kind of Laura to send you that letter, though.” 

“I almost wish I didn’t know,” Karen says. “I could just been happy.” 

Mary reaches out and rests an arm on her shoulder. “Matthew seems to be a strong man, and he has survived thus far. He also has someone worth fighting for.” 

“John had you,” Karen snapped, “and that didn’t bring him home, did it?”

* * *

The dark cloud over Karen lasts through June and in to July, and she cannot bring herself to enjoy the bright summer weather that, for once, comes to Edinburgh. Whenever she walks around and sees people with husbands or fiancees or whoever, she feels stabs of jealousy, because they haven’t had to lose what she’s lost in this war. 

Two brothers, and her true love.

She knows families from home where no one has helped in the war effort, and this makes her angry beyond belief. 

Near the end of July, she receives another letter, with a return address in Northampton. She looks at it closer, and realises that the handwriting is not Laura’s - it’s Matthew’s. 

It’s a damn good thing that she faints in the nurses’ dormitory, because she was attended to by several qualified medical professionals.

Later, once she’s had her obligatory cup of tea, she opens the letter with shaking hands.

_July 1944  
Northampton_

_Karen, my love,_

_I am so, so sorry for not writing earlier - I fear my poor health did not allow me much time for letter-writing._

_I was shot in the leg (the same one that I broke at El-Alamein, as luck would have it), and spent several hours pinned down in a muddy field, where I sustained several less severe wounds. After finally being rescued, I was subject to several infections, from what I suspect was whatever was in the mud. I spent several days hovering between life and death, but I fortunately made it out on the right side with no lasting damage other than a nasty limp._

_I am going to come up to Edinburgh now that I am sufficiently recovered, and I will finally be able to see you._

_Love always,_

_Matthew_

* * *

He advises her of the date, though not the time of his train, and she spends most of that day sitting in Waverley Station, waiting for the one train that will bring him to her. 

At approximately six o’clock, a train from Birmingham pulls in, and she stands up to see if she can pick him out from the crowd that pours off it. Lo and behold, there he is, in a tweed jacket and a waistcoat. He looked no different from when she’d seen him last nearly two and a half years prior, save for the fact that he walked with a cane. 

With her heart in her throat, she makes her way towards him, and he turns and sees her and his face lights up. 

“My Karen,” he says, when she gets to him, and he rests a hand on her cheek. 

“Matthew,” she whispers, because the emotions in her are welling up to the point that she might cry if she says anything more. 

“Oh,” he says, “I have missed you so.” He presses a gentle, chaste kiss on her lips, and lets one of his hands slip around her waist to pull her close to him. 

When they pull apart, her cheeks are burning scarlet, and she picks up his valise. 

“Shall we go for some dinner?” She asks. 

He nods. “I trust you know some place we could go.” 

They end up not far from Waverley Station, because she does not want to make him walk farther than he has to, because his leg likely hurts him something fierce. 

Over dinner, he tells her more about the battle in France and how he came to be so injured. 

“It wasn’t even the gunshot that was the worst of it, though it was pretty bad,” Matthew says. “The infection - the fever, the pain - that was the worst part. I was hallucinating, and I always saw you, and it was almost as though that image in my mind was what kept me going.” 

She wipes her eyes a little, and he reaches out his hand across the table to hold hers. 

“It’s hard not being able to save the ones you love,” Karen says. “I spent a lot of time wishing that I could be your personal nurse, so that I would always be responsible for your well-being.” 

“There were days,” Matthew says, “where I wished that as well.” 

* * *

They make the journey up to Inverness that weekend, and Matthew almost immediately requests a private meeting with Karen’s parents, and she is left in the sitting room to fret. (She strongly suspects what’s coming next, however.)

It’s still a little bit of a surprise, but an excellent one, when Matthew comes and sits with her and proposes marriage with a lovely sapphire ring.

She accepts rather emphatically. There are tears, but they are happy tears, because Matthew doesn’t have to go back to the army, and they will be together forever. 

They are married in Northampton in November, and for once, the weather gods smile on them and give them the privilege of a sunny day. 

They end up living in Birmingham, where Matthew joins a firm of solicitors. As per the rules of her profession, Karen quit upon her marriage, but it turned out to be a fortuitous choice, as their twins, Joanna and Christine, were born eighteen months after the wedding. 

Karen had held, for most of her life, a fundamental non-belief in fairy tales, believing that hard work would lead to greater success that luck or magic. Her time with Matthew changes that, because after all the separation and heartache, they manage to create a life together that is happy and fulfilling. 

She reads their old letters many times over. He comes and he sits with her, and laughs when he thinks of his best memories of the Army, and she still sees the dashing young soldier that fell off a tank in Egypt with whom she fell in love in the first place. 

_-fin_


	2. The re-written reunion scene

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought that the reunion scene could have been written a bit better, so I decided to re-write it.

Matt apprises her of the day, but not the time of his train, so Karen gets the day off, and sits in Waverley Station trying and failing to focus on her book. 

She wonders if he’s changed, if the war has taken any of the brightness out of his eyes or the spring out of his step. (Well, it has. He’s got a limp. It would logically follow that his step was less springy.) 

She wonders if he still loves her like he says he does in his letters. 

At around six o’clock in the evening, a train from Birmingham pulls in. She stands up and looks around for him - and sees him. He’s wearing a tweed jacket, waistcoat, and bow tie. It’s jarring to see him not in uniform, but she does have one picture of him from Christmas in civvies.

He’s got a limp in his right leg, and he walks around with a black cane now. He moves away from the train stiffly, and stands in the middle of the station, looking around for her.

Heart in her throat, she gets up and makes her way towards him. Her legs are shaking, but she is drawn towards him by destiny, perhaps, but certainly love. 

He’s facing away from her when she gets to him, so she gently rests a hand on his shoulder, and his head snaps up and he turns around slowly, leaning on his cane.  

“Oh, my Karen,” he says. His eyes sparkle, and a slow smile spreads across his face. 

“Matthew,” she says, eyes blurring with tears. She tries to say something else, but it comes out as a sob. 

He wraps one arm around her waist and pulls her against him gently. She rests her head on his shoulder, and he kisses the top of her head. 

“You know,” he says, and she notices that he too has tears in his eyes, “You have quite possibly become more beautiful since last we saw each other.” His hand is still warm on her waist. 

“Well,” she says, wiping her eyes, “you’re just as handsome.” 

“I should hope so.” 

He leans in for a kiss, and she meets him halfway and drapes her arms over his shoulder. (Having never kissed anyone, she assumes that this is proper kissing protocol.) He gasps a little when their lips touch, and she moans - the feeling of his body against hers is intoxicating, to say the absolute least. 

They pull apart when people start to applaud around them, and he has the most ridiculous grin on his face. 

“I have waited for two and a half years to do that,” he says. 

“We should do it again then, though perhaps not in Waverley Station,” Karen says. 

“Agreed. Shall we get some supper? I’m sure you know a place or two around here,” Matthew says. 

“Absolutely,” Karen says, and she picks up his valise and they make their way out of the station.


End file.
